A Joker's Mindset
by AsgardianGrizzly
Summary: Mr. J. The Jester. The Joker. But what if it hadn't been him locked in the asylum? What if it had been Harley? What if he was the doctor? What if he joined the squad? What if Joker and Harley switched positions? Ever wonder what it's like in a Joker's head? What is a Joker's mindset? EVERY JOKER/HARLEY SCENE (swapped) REQUESTED SCENES. Joker-Centric story. Accepting requests.
1. The Harlequin and Her Joker

Chapter 1-

 **Hello everyone! Thank you for clicking on this story, as it is my first DC story. :) I fell in love with Joker after seeing Suicide Squad** _ **twice!**_ **And I just had to make a request story for anyone else who loved him as much as I did. :)**

 **The first request comes from myself and it was something intriguing me the entire time. What if roles has been reversed? What if Harley had been the patient and Joker had been the doctor?**

 **Now, obviously the Joker's identity is never revealed, so I'll just be using the name Jared because of the actor. :) Hope you guys don't mind. Let me know what you think and feel free to send in requests of scenes you'd like to see reversed.**

 **This first one will be LOOSELY based on the original script, but with twists to fit the lines to the character swap.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Suicide Squad, Joker or Harley Quinn. I don't own Belle Reve, or Gotham.**

 **Enjoy.**

Mr. J.

That's what everyone called him. That or Dr. J., it all depended on the mood and the day's activities. Working at Arkham Asylum wasn't a joy in any way. Everyone was crazy and conversations weren't easily held with anyone except fellow doctors, who tended to speak science and theory in every discussion. He was more of a jester himself, always trying to work jokes and humor into daily life. Arkham Asylum's staff didn't seem to understand humor.

What he would've given to work somewhere else.

But…then again…there was one bright shining patient in the depressing hellhole he worked in. One single patient that upon meeting he had immediately looked forwards to work every day. The single patient that made him dread every other patient, and brightened up one hour of every day.

"Hiya, Mr. J," the girl across the table giggled, biting her lip and smiling at him. "I missed you while they locked me away, all alone. I wanted to _be_ with _you_ ," she pouted.

He immediately felt a smile creep onto his own face as he let out a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry. I wanted to see you. I told them to let me in, but they think I'm getting too attached."

"Silly, stupid doctors…" she laughed, smile popping up once again. "Silly, silly, silly."

He smiled a bit more and nodded unsurely. "I, ah, I brought you a kitty." He pulled the small stuffed cat from his lab coat pocket and held it up, squeezing it a bit to help catch her interest.

A gasp of surprise escaped the young woman, and then a squeal. "Someone's been a _bad_ doctor, sneaking in things for little ol' me…" another giggle trailed from her lips as she leaned forwards, her straitjacket sleeves pulling as she tried to reach for the stuffed kitten.

"The thing is…" her smile faded to seriousness, only a small grin remaining.

He listened intently, eyebrows rising. Hadn't she liked his gift? Had he done something wrong?

"There's something else you could do for me… _Puddin'_ …" she whispered, like she was sharing a secret.

He tensed a bit at the nickname. She didn't use it often, but he adored when she did. Immediately he was ready and listening, ready to do whatever it took to help his patient, the harlequin as everyone called her, because she only spoke to Mr. J, and Mr. J alone.

"Anything," he answered quickly, swiftly correcting himself. "I mean—yea—"

Harley leaned forwards again, her eyes narrowing and brightening all at once, a small smirk playing her lips.

"I need a machine gun."

Mr. J was stunned. He gaped, unsure of what to say.

"Can you do that for me, Mr. J?" she purred. Something that resembled innocence filled her voice. "Can you help me…? I don't want to be locked away again, Mr.J.…" she pouted. "I don't want to be alone…"

He was doubtful now. He could die. He could get killed. He didn't know what Harleen was planning. His harlequin. She only talked to him. But now she wasn't talking.

She burst into controlled laughter suddenly, a wide smile on her face. "Would you keep me company, Mr.J?"

"I…" The doctor muttered. He ran a hand through his brown hair nervously.

"You're my fun, I need you," she explained quickly, as if she was on some sort of time limit. "You've gotta help me, you make me happy, I like being happy, you're my jester, Mr.J. That's what it stands for, right? Jester? Joker?"

He looked up at her, debating silently.

"Oh, you like that…" she giggled. "Alright, Mr. J. Mr. Joker. Can you make me happy? Can you do this one little itty bitty thing for me?"

A pause.

And then.

"Okay."

 **And that's all you get! I know it was short, but I'd like to know if people are interested. Obviously I can continue this one-shot if you guys want, otherwise I am accepting any and all Suicide Squad requests, as long as they have to do with the Joker. After all, this is a Joker-centric story.**

 **Let me know! Send in any requests you'd like! From "What if the Joker…?" to "How would the Joker react to…?" JokerxHarley requests are also welcome.**

 **Hopefully see you soon!  
-AsgardianGrizzly**


	2. The Fall of Arkham, the Rise of Ace

Chapter 2-

 **Aw! You guys are so sweet. :)**

 **OKAY! ANNOUNCEMENT! IMPORTANT!**

 **SO, because all of you liked the swap so much, I've decided that I'm just gonna rewrite ANY scene in the movie with Joker OR Harley, except swapped. :) For those of you who requesting things NOT in the movie, those will work as fillers in the story and help give it more of a plot. :) Make sense? I hope so. PM me if it doesn't.**

 **Also, small mistake in the last chapter, they were at Arkham Asylum, not Belle Reve. :)**

 **To** _ **c0c0cat**_ **: How does the above sound? You helped inspire it! X)**

 _ **Maruharukaru**_ **was curious on who would get hurt in this relationship. Shall we find out?**

 **As many of you requested, mainly** _ **OnTheRun246**_ **, here is a new take on the "Really Really Bad", and vat scenes. :)**

The Joker.

He liked the ring of it. It only made it better that Harley had given it to him.

Mr. J ducked behind the desk, hands clasping his ears tightly as gunfire rang out in the asylum. Dozens of men and a few women had stormed the building in ridiculous outfits. One wore a batman mask, another was dressed in a panda suit, and a few more wore animal masks. The Joker had locked himself in his office, occasionally risking a glance over the desktop.

This wasn't what he wanted to happen. It wasn't. He didn't think Harleen would do this. It had to be Harleen, right? He knew it was. It was Harleen. That didn't make it right. No, this was completely and utterly wrong.

Another burst of gunfire accompanied the sound of bullets rattling off metal. Sweeping his hand through his hair, Mr.J's eyebrows shot up in alarm and bullets erupted into a series of holes in the wood door. A kick sent the door flying open, revealing two men in matching black and white smile masks with sharpened teeth. Both clutched recently reloaded machine guns.

With widening eyes, the Joker scrambled at one of the drawers, digging furiously through drawer, his fingers met the grip of a revolver. That was when two pairs of hands snatched his shoulders and under his arms, dragging him backwards across the floor.

"Let go!" Mr. J shouted wildly. "I know Harleen! You can't kill me!" He screamed, the men picking up the pace and yanking him through the hallway.

He was momentarily silenced when he gagged at the strong smell of iron in the air. The Joker shouted in a strange incomprehensible language, a combination of begging and explaining, as his feet kicked out, hitting the bodies that littered the floor. He knew some of these people. Most of them never laughed at his jokes. Harley did. She always laughed.

"I know Harleen! You can't _do this!_ " his throat was burning, and tears were prickling behind his eyes, but he wasn't stopping anytime soon. These men needed to bring him to Harleen. His harlequin. She would stop them. She would laugh. She would help him. She would laugh. She would laugh. She would laugh. Laugh.

A laugh split from his lungs, forcing its way through his lips. He was going to die. He was going to die and all he could do was laugh. "You—You don't understand!" he laughed quietly, a couple tears slipping out.

The men lifted him as his struggles weakened. They were gonna kill him. Straps were tightened over his chest, around his wrists and over his ankles. He pulled a couple times, closing his eyes tightly and slamming his head back on the cushioned long medical chair. "You have to take me to—"

"Hiya Puddin'."

His eyes opened immediately and he tilted his head to look at the door, seeing the room upside down. "Harleen." He whispered.

She looked different, but not quite right, like she had gotten dressed in a hurry.

She wore only a red bra and standard issue blue Arkham Asylum sweatpants. The sweatpants had been torn to shreds, leaving what could be considered booty shorts. Her feet were bare and her pasty skin had been smeared with blue and red eye makeup and bright red lipstick.

Mr. J pulled at his restraints, asking with more curiosity than fear, "What're you gonna do? You gonna kill me, Harley?"

"Harley…" she smiled, pulling two pieces of equipment from a nearby table. "I like that…" She walked over, two devices in her hands. The equipment was used for electro-therapy. He'd seen the process in use before. It wasn't pretty, but it was almost beautiful what response it gained.

"No," She said quietly, a small giggle escaping. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, Puddin'." Her grin widened, and she circled the devices around the sides of his head. He could feel the electricity in the air, making his hair stand on end. "I'm just gonna hurt ya…" she brought her face close, so their noses almost touched. She smelled of iron and bleach, with a touch of perfume. "Really…Really… _bad_ …"

Pain exploded in his temples, traveling through every strand of hair and making his back arch as he gasped in pain, unable to make a sound.

The last thing he saw was Harleen's wide smile before he succumbed to darkness.

 _ **~A JOKER'S MINDSET~**_

His brown hair was disheveled. His skin looked paler in the dim lighting. He still had healing scars on the sides of his head, hidden under newly grown brown hair. It was silent except for the sound of sizzling coming from ahead. The strange scent filling the corridor smelled vaguely like bleach and gasoline. It couldn't be safe to breathe. And yet, he'd spent the past hour here. Pipes hissed and released foul smokes in the air. A dead scientist, killed by Harleen, had been kicked to the side of the hallway.

Harleen looked beautiful. Her hair was down. She'd dyed it as soon as they'd left the asylum. Red and blue on the tips, splitting her hair perfectly in half. She'd changed too. She wore a more elegant outfit. A wine red tube top and slim black pants with crisp black heels. She almost seemed giddy as she led him down the hall.

Fumes erupted into his face and the doctor coughed, recoiling as he walked.

"Harleen, I don't think it's safe to be breathing in these fumes," he announced.

"It's fine, Puddin'. They're fine. Like oxygen…but _better_." She remarked , her accent accompanying every line and a growing smile.

"I really don't—"

In a split second she'd spun on her heel and whipped her hand across his face. His head snapped to the side and he gaped, stunned, slowly bringing a hand up to his stinging face, where his cheek was burning red.

"It's _fine_ ," she argued almost calmly, shoving a finger in his face. A smile appeared directly after and she cupped his cheek in her hand, turning his head so they were eye to eye once more. "I'm sorry, Mr. J, did that hurt? Did it? I didn't mean it. Well, I did, but that's okay, isn't it?"

Unsure, he nodded once, her hand still pressed against his cheek, his hand hovering.

"Yea. It's okay, we're fine, this is fine, everything's fine," she drawled a laugh then. Her eyes narrowed and her nose scrunched, like he was the cutest puppy in the world. "My Puddin'." She patted his cheek and continued down the hallway.

He followed after her, running a hand quickly through his hair.

They reached the metal railing. The end of the path. The railing was bent horrendously on both ends, disfigured and mangled. Someone had broken it, putting nothing between him and the vats of acid waiting below.

"What're we…?" he trailed off, captivated by the bubbling liquid below.

She hummed in admiration, and he turned to find her looking down at the vats with a smile. She turned to him. They were close, less than an arm's length away.

"Question," she said. Her eyes looked at him under longer lashes. "Would you die for me?"

Without hesitation, he said firmly: "Yes." He glanced at the gun at her waist, a moment of doubt, and then back at Harleen, the doubt faded.

"No," she laughed, like someone had said something nice. For a second he was concerned. "That's too easy, Puddin', just too easy…" He voice faded to a hum as she thought. "Hm. Would ya…would ya live for me, Mr.J?" She asked, taking a step closer. She glanced down at the vats, just for a second. "Hmm? Would ya?"

"Yes." He looked at her, lost in her gorgeous blue eyes and snow white skin.

"Careful, Puddin'. This is important to me." She warned, biting her lip with a sly grin. "Don't promise me that easy, baby. Don't _make_ thoughtless _promises_." She sung. "See, desire becomes surrender. And surrender?" she let out one laugh. "Surrender becomes _power_. Ya want this, Puddin'? Ya _really_ want this? Want me?"

He nodded, eyebrows raised in full attention, "I want you. I—I want this. I do."

"Say it…" she whispered. "Say it!" his patient snapped playfully, another endless laugh thrumming from her throat. It rang off the metal. " _Say_ _it!_ " Her voice quieted again. "Pretty, pretty, pretty, _pretty_ …"

Swallowing hard, the taller man (who still had her by an inch, even with her heels), let out a whispered word, voice cracking. "Please."

A Cheshire cat smile split her cheeks. "Ah, Mr.J, you're so good. So, _so_ good. "

The slightest amount of pressure applied to his chest by her hand. Not enough to force him, but enough to tell him what she wanted. He wanted this. He wanted her. Innocent eyes locked on fair blonde locks and a lip-biting smile. She knew she was going to get what she wanted. And he wanted to give it to her.

His feet shuffled back, almost of their own accord, and then the floor was gone beneath him.

The next moment, his skin was on fire. His shirt, a wine red button up, was sizzling off of his back. His hair was singed all at once, and his mouth was filled with burning liquid that had the texture of an ice-cream shake.

The air left his lungs and for a second, he felt nothing.

Abruptly his blue eyes snapped open and he shoved his arms downwards, feet finding the base of the vat. He continued swimming through the thick acid around him. His skin was on fire, but it all blurred into one numbing pain. He spotted two legs dipped in the acid and swam towards them.

Breaking the surface, he took in the feeling of oxygen, skin and hair coated thickly in chemicals. He coughed a couple times, looking up at Harley like a puppy to its master.

Harleen peered at him with a smile, perched on the rim of the vat with her legs crossed. Her hair was slicked back with chemicals, and the Joker quickly realized she had dived in after him. He smiled, and reached up, to which she dropped into his arms. He held her bridal style.

And together they laughed, color swirling around them.

 **How was it? Did it do okay? :) I'm pretty happy with it.**

 **Thank you to everyone who reviewed! It means the world to me! I'll try to get through every request, either making them work with this Swap Story or changing up the storyline, we'll see. The next scene will be a combo of the club scene and the car scene, similar to how this one was the vat scene and the Hurt You scene. :)**

 **Feel free to drop a review or PM me if you enjoyed!**

 **I'll try to get an update every day or every other day, but school is coming up, so it's gonna be tricky and I might miss a couple.**

 **See you all soon!**

 **-AG**


	3. Permanent Smiles - Pt 1

Chapter 3-

 **Hey, look at that, we're back again. X)**

 **Super sorry this didn't appear yesterday! I screwed up and got my tablet taken away for a day. D: I know right? Anyways. Back now. X)**

 **So one of the biggest criticisms that you guys had was that the last chapter was incredibly similar to the movie. You are correct, and this did bother me as well. The problem was that they did have to have a relatively similar backstory or they wouldn't have turned out the same. Now, though, I plan on changing it up. We're gonna skip ahead a year and see how our swapped characters are doing.**

 **And, yes, I promise I'll start to vary the storyline some more. I'm just nervous because it's my first time writing these characters. Sorry everyone. :)**

 **But!** _ **Maruharukaru**_ **has given me permission to change as I wish! XD So expect some drastic changes from now on.**

 **A reminder, this story will only be Joker and Harley POVs. They might vary one and a while, but for the most part it's all going to be circled around Joker.**

 **So, who else wanted to know how the Joker came across his tattoos?**

 **Shall we?**

"This just in, there are multiple casualties at the Arkham Asylum this morning, where reports have it that Patient 104 : _Harleen_ _Quinzel_ escaped from custody in an all-out gun barrage on the facility. One employee, whose name hasn't been released to the public, has also gone missing in the attack."

"Quinzel is described to have platinum blonde hair, blue eyes and usually wears both red and blue eye makeup. She is legally mentally unstable. If spotted, do not approach, call authorities immediately. I repeat, if spotted, report to the authorities immediately. Quinzel is armed and dangerous."

"On other news, while the identity of the missing person from the Arkham Asylum attack last month will not be released, it is confirmed that the victim is male, last seen with brown hair and dark blue eyes. He was last seen in a white lab coat, maroon button up and black slacks."

"Police have released reports of a break in at Ace Chemicals, a local chemical plant in Gotham City. The break in is believed to be connected to the Arkham Asylum massacre, where Patient 104: Harleen Quinzel escaped and is yet to resurface."

"Locals are still advised to alert authorities if the missing man is spotted. Back to you Barbara."

The Joker tilted his head.

He didn't believe anyone would recognize the missing man if he was seen out on the streets. He could waltz right down and the only reason people would call the authorities would be that he had a gun in his hand and a smile on his face. The chemicals he'd leapt into only a few months ago had affected the roots of his hair, burning them an almost neon green. His eyebrows had been singed off.

It wasn't just the chemicals, either. Harley had a hand in his transformation. She loved his smile. She always had. But sometimes—mostly when he had those pesky thoughts about life before Harley, or turning himself in—he didn't smile. She never liked that.

One day she had dragged him over to one of the many apartments she had scattered throughout the city, and pulled out a tattoo gun.

She'd tattooed across his abs, a wide grin, and told him playfully "Puddin', I love your smile, but you never show me it, so I'll have to look at this one instead." She smiled widely as he stared at the new tattoo.

He didn't mind it, really, it wasn't that bad.

The only major problem in life was the Bat that showed up a couple days after their first major massacre in downtown Gotham. What a joke, that guy, and this was coming from him. The Joker had fought for a bit, knife versus fists, while Harley took a few strong swings with her bat and fired a few rounds from her gun. They'd ended up leaving when the party got boring. That night they'd returned to the most permanent home they owned, and had a bit of fun.

" _What'd'ya think?" The Joker jumped to the top of the glass living room table, a look of dead seriousness on his face. He pulled his arm across his face like he'd seen the Bat do. "Do I look like Batman...?" He asked with a gravelly tone._

 _Harley cracked up at that. "Too much like him!" She remarked with a giggle. "Come 'ere."_

 _She drew him down and pulled out the tattoo gun once more, scrawling a large grin on his forearm. Once finished, the Joker showed off his new ink with the pose again._

" _There," she nodded happily. "Let's see how the bat likes that."_

It soon became a weekly process. One tattoo every week. Sometimes every other day.

At the beginning it was all Harley's doing, and a collaboration of their choices. More smiles, mainly. One crossed over the back of his left shoulder, and another found its home on the upper right of his back. A robin, one of Harley's favorite birds, had been added to the collection on his right bicep.

His first choice, made alone without Harley, was a deck of cards drawn across the left side of his collarbone. His second was a small "J" under his left eye. After that it was a skull in a jester's hat over the right side of his chest. The name "Joker" in big letters in the middle of his torso. He penned in "Ha" three times under the deck of cards while looking in the mirror. Three more. Another three. It still didn't look right. Eventually the entire left side of his chest covered in "Ha's" and then so was his left forearm after his chest began to burn unbearably.

The "Ha's" were still healing that day.

The day when Harley introduced him to the concept of murder. It wasn't that he was unfamiliar to it, because Harley killed people all the time…but this one was different.

"Say it, asshole!" She swung her decorated bat low, and hit the man square in the ribs. A loud crackling couple of snaps found their way to Mr. J's ears. "Apologize!" Another swing, another crack.

The Joker barely heard what was going on, relaxing on a bar stool to the left of the action and peering over the counter at a mirror behind the bar. He ran a hand through his rough green hair and tilted his head backwards slightly to see himself from another angle. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing the healing tattoos that dabbed his white sleeves with blood. A side glance was thrown at the dead bar tender, who was sprawled across the floor, brains spilling out onto the tile.

The place was practically empty as far as company went. There was Harley, himself, the man on the ground, the dead bartender and a group of mobsters with their hands on their heads. The group belonged to the man that Harley was brutally beating, about 20 guys total. A couple of Harley's guys made up the last of the room's occupants, guns pointed at the mobsters and keeping them in place.

"Apologize to my Puddin' for what you said!" growled Harley as she brought down the bat again, this time on the guy's ankle. The man cried out and a loud snap sounded.

The Joker couldn't help but not care. After all, he was no "Green haired freak" and certainly not "one sick fuck" so the man deserved it.

"Say it, you worthless—" the bat was brought down and the man released another cry. "— _mother_ —" another swing. "—fucker!" Again.

"I'm sorry!" burst he man suddenly.

Harley threatened the bat and the man whimpered. "Sorry, who?"

"I'm sorry—" the man hesitated. "Puddin'?"

Harley smiled as if impressed and happy, but it quickly turned to her baring her teeth. "You _don't_ call him that!"

The bastard was crying now. Mr. J was impressed he held out that long. A mess of broken bones, blood and tears in a heap on the floor. Sobbing his eyes out because of a couple fractures. _What a pussy_ , he thought with bored eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mr.J!" the man shouted.

"You're _lying!_ " snapped Harley, eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm not!" begged the man.

Harley pulled out one of the spare guns and the man's eyes widened.

"Listen, you sick bitch! I'm not lying!"

Narrowing her eyes, Harley suddenly spun the gun gunslinger style on her finger, catching it by the barrel. Her eyes remained glued to the man, but the gun was pointed at Mr.J. He raised a brow, pressing two lipstick covered lips together (Harley thought it brought out his smile). Stepping off of the barstool with an elegant hop, he carefully took the firearm in his hand, weighing it with a mask of seriousness over his concern.

He readjusted his grip, pointing the gun at the mobster's head, knowing that he'd never be the same if he did this. Would he be guilty? After this he wouldn't be the victim on TV, he'd be a new criminal on the wanted list. A crime lord. Lord. That sounded ridiculous. He was no lord. He was a _prince_.

And _this_ was _his_ kingdom.

In an instant the trigger had been pulled and the man was dead.

With a slowly growing smile and narrowed eyes, the Joker stepped over the corpse, blood painting the bottom of his shoes as he walked over to the group of mobsters in the corner. He pulled the trigger again, sending another man to the ground. The smell of gunpowder filled his nostrils and he narrowed his eyes further, mouth opened slightly in concentration.

He fired again and again. A wicked grin appeared as he took out every last one. Wait. Last one? No. There had to be more. Trigger happy and enjoying himself completely, he fired into the corpses again, reloaded in a second and spun, sending a bullet into each of Harley's henchmen's foreheads. They crumpled, the smell of iron and gunpowder breaking Mr.J from his trance.

"Next time," he said breathily. "I'll have to try that bat a' yours." Harley giggled.

"Maybe we should getcha one of your own, huh Puddin'?" she smiled.

He sent her a smirk, liking the idea. Maybe not a bat. He needed something fit for a prince. Something elegant. Something professional. A cane of sorts perhaps. He raised his hands and let the gun slip from his fingers, clattering to the ground. He held out his hand.

"M'lady…?" He thought for a moment. "Shall we…take our leave?" He asked with the voice of a madman.

Harley bounced over, professionally skipping over bodies and puddles of blood, bat in hand. She took his arm. He'd just seen a mass murder. The memory would never leave him. And the best part?

He'd pulled the trigger.

 **Okay everyone! So this is PART 1 of 2! I was super intrigued by Joker's tattoos in the movie, and so I decided to write how I thought he received them and the ideas for them. The next chapter explains the remaining tattoos (the hand smile and a few others), so I hope you're excited. :)**

 **Please let me know what you think and feel free to drop a review about what you'd like to see or what you'd like me to explain (for example, I just explained how he got his tattoos). :)**

 **Thank you all for reviewing, favoriting and following! It means so much to me, because this is the first time that my inbox has been spammed consecutively over a few days.**

 **I'll update again tomorrow!**

 **-AG**


	4. Permanent Smiles - Pt 2

Chapter 4-

 **I was listening to** _ **You Don't Own Me – Suicide Remix**_ **from the movie and boy did it help with creativity flow and getting me in the mood to write these characters. :)**

 **Now, without further ado, here is the second part that everyone has been waiting for. Enough waiting to know how the tattoos came to be. :)**

 **Along with that information, as per request of** _ **VBallPanda**_ **, we're going to find out why the Joker has silver teeth.**

 **Disclaimer: The answer on why the silver teeth mainly belongs to DC, because they started the rumor. I'm just writing how I think it happened. More on that at the end.**

 **WARNING: Grisly descriptions**

 **Shall we?**

 _1 Month After the Mobster Massacre_

The Joker loved killing.

It was something that he found joy in.

He couldn't name all of the people he'd fired a round into, but he could describe them quite easily.

A woman in a blue dress.

A man in suede shoes.

A young man with an "R" on his chest.

That one was special. That one had been killed when they'd had a run in with the bat.

Mr.J and Harley made their way out to the car. Speaking of kills, it'd been a long night. A nice night at their favorite club had turned bitter when one of the stripper's had flirted her way over to the Joker, and begun undressing only to comment on his teeth. His silver teeth. She said she liked them. Stupid bitch. Hm.

A stripper. Another kill.

He still remembered the day.

 _ **~A JOKER'S MINDSET~**_

 _FLASHBACK_

 _2 Weeks After The Mobster Massacre_

 _1 Week After the Robin's Death_

The car was an expensive black sports car. Mr. J preferred red, or purple, but Harley liked the sleekness of it. He took the driver's seat, and she jumped into the passenger. Het let out a laugh as they took off, reaching full speed in minutes. He heard sirens approach the building as they made their escape. He swerved around cars, although there weren't many at this hour.

It was then that something slammed into the side of the car, on the Joker's side. He turned angrily, baring his teeth when he saw the bat clinging to the side of the car. Why couldn't he just piss off? Always ruining Harley's fun. His fun. Any fun. Just because he wasn't invited. What a sore sport.

For a very brief moment, the doctor that he once was returned and the Joker found himself feeling the need to ask for mercy, to return to the sick sorry pathetic human being that he had been. No. Harley improved him. The Bat slammed a hand through the glass, spraying broken glass over Mr.J and forcing him to swerve the car. They neared a wall, the Joker ready to turn the Bat into graffiti on the wall. Suddenly a third hand was on the wheel, veering it away.

Harley was shouting angrily as she pulled a gun from the glove compartment and fired past the Joker at the Bat, who deflected but released his hold on the wheel. Mr. J kept one hand on the wheel as he reached across to the cup holder between the two seats, where his pistol sat abandoned. He grabbed it and fired at Batman's face, ears ringing from the noise. People were running around outside, cars were steering off of the road and onto the sidewalk, trying to avoid the clown, his love and their Bat.

Speaking of bats.

Harley opened the sunroof quickly, standing so that half of her body was out of the car. She leaned over the joker, knees bumping him with the swerves of the car. She brought down her bat over Batman's head. Grunting, he fell back, holding on with one hand. His chest was facing out now, as he struggled for a grip. The sunroof shattered, raining glass down on the driver.

Laughing loudly and proudly, hair disheveled, Joker clutched the wheel with one hand and stuck his hand out the window, firing as many times as he could before chucking the gun itself in the general direction of their intruder.

Suddenly something grabbed his wrist, yanking forcefully. Joker growled, pulling fiercely as the car narrowly avoided a lamppost. Harley ducked back in, reaching over and taking the wheel with both hands, her bat resting in her lap. With steering under control for the moment, he allowed himself to be pulled out the window a ways. It was easy, seeing as he wasn't wearing a seatbelt.

Now sticking half of his body out of the window, legs inside the vehicle, and face to face with the Bat, he pulled a knife from his vest and swung dangerously close to the Bat's exposed chin. His hand was caught and Joker was forced to release his grip on the car, bringing up his other hand as he pulled another gun from the dashboard and fired a few times. The bullets dented the armor ever so slightly, but pinged off nonetheless. One scraped against the Joker's cheekbone as it flew past, causing a stinging pain that he barely noticed, to focused on the fight.

The car abruptly swerved again, Harley making an attempt to shake the Bat. The Joker pulled back, managing to get back into the car in a sideways sitting position as he and Batman continued to wrestle for leverage. It was then that they inevitably slammed into something.

Pain burst out all at once as the Joker was slammed into the steering wheel on his side, the horn blaring in the background upon impact. An airbag inflated into his face. The Bat didn't have time to jump, instead flying forwards and landing in a roll. Joker's arm nearly went with him, sounding an unholy noise as it dislocated at the shoulder.

He groaned, coming to after briefly blacking out. He blinked a couple times in confusion when he realized he was getting dragged by the back of his collar. His feet dragged across the pavement. His hands were cuffed together.

In the distance he spotted the expensive car. Shockingly, the hood was barely dented, even though the lamppost had fallen onto the street upon impact. He saw that Harley was unconscious and tied up, leaning against a wall in the alleyway he was being dragged into. Her bat was nearby, across the alleyway, two pieces of splintered wood. She'd obviously awakened before he had. He made a note of getting her a new one.

With another grunt of discomfort, he lifted his head and peered up the arm dragging him, at the Bat's masked face.

"What's wrong, Batsy?" he grumbled. "Don't wanna do this in front'a Harley?"

He was thrown forwards, his back and the back of his head connected harshly with the end of the alleyway, a brick wall. He slid down until he was sitting, back against the wall, dislocated arm pulsing with pain.

"You still have a chance," Batman said in his ridiculous gravelly voice.

Joker laughed, tilting his head. "Fine. I'll play. A chance at what?"

"Redeeming yourself. I know who you were. I know _what_ you were. What you did. You helped people." The Bat said in a growl.

The Joker didn't like this. Harley said he shouldn't think of it. He didn't want to. He didn't help people. That guy died with the rest of them.

"You're confusing me with someone else," he tilted his head the other way, lifting his good hand and bringing the other one up to his face as well due to the handcuffs. He wiped blood from his nose. A smile worked its way to his mouth. "Someone who smiles a lot less, I bet."

The Bat had turned, back facing him, cape flowing a bit in the wind. How dramatic. There was silence as they watched the smoking car in the distance.

"Did you do it?"

The Joker raised an eyebrow. Now they were getting somewhere. "Do... _what_ …?" he asked, almost teasing himself. He knew what.

"You know." Growled the Bat.

A laugh bubbled from his throat. "You know what's funny?"

The Bat remained stock still, not saying a word.

"The sound a Robin makes when it's dying," he smiled cruelly. "Cheep cheep cheep…" he said quietly, the last word trailing off pathetically. He laughed again.

Batman apparently didn't get his joke, because he spun, punching Joker hard across the face with steel knuckles. A crack filled the alleyway and Joker fell to his side, only to be hoisted back up by the Bat. He brought his handcuffed hands back up, wiping blood from the corner of his lips. His tongue felt around his mouth. No damage so far. He could keep playing.

He brought his lips to a whistle, releasing the true song of a robin and letting it drain off to nothing. Another smile formed. The Bat's eyes narrowed beneath his mask and he crouched, shoving the Joker backwards into the wall again and making him see stars. He blinked them away and whistled again, earning another punch. This time when he spat a glob of blood to the pavement, a broken section of tooth went with it. A swipe with his tongue and he realized that half of his right canine was gone.

"Help me, please," the Joker imitated, bringing his voice up an octave to sound vaguely like a child. "I'm sorry, don't kill me, please…" he made a pouting face before snickering again. "Please, I'm sorry, please don't kill me…" His grin fell. "Pathetic. What're you teaching those snot-nosed apprentices a yours?"

His head was whipped to the side again, this time sending cracks up a collection of teeth and causing some others to loosen. Blood and saliva mixed, filling his mouth. He spat again, some of the foul mixture coating his lips and dripping down his chin. "Pathetic!" He spat. "You swing like the kid did before I _capped him!_ "

The Bat released an angered shout, kneeing the Joker in the chest and punching him again.

"That's more like it, Batsy," he slurred through broken teeth and blood. "Let me have it. Won't bring him back." Another chilling smile was shown to Batman. When the next hit came it sent Joker to the ground for good, landing on his bad shoulder. Blood leaked from the corner of his lips, forming a puddle under his head.

"Cheep, cheep," he muttered with determination. "And they say I'm funny."

Right as the Bat was about to bring his fist down, a rope found its way around his throat. Harley had pounced after freeing herself from here restraints. Said restraints were now being used in the best way as they were yanked back against the Bat's throat. He'd seen her cutting the restraints, of course. Why else would he have kept Batman distracted? For fun? Well. Good point.

The armor was proving the task of strangling quite difficult, but Harley was putting her full weight into it. The Bat slammed her into the wall in an attempt to get her off, but she was determined.

"Look what you did to my _Puddin!_ " each word was emphasized with a tug. "Look! Look what you did!"

The Bat choked, eventually buckling at the knees and passing out.

"You didn't look," snapped Harley as she got to her feet. "Pussy."

Her full attention was on him now as she hurried over and dropped to a kneel next to him, freeing him of his handcuffs before helping him back to a sitting position.

"Hiya darlin'," he muttered with a half-hearted broken smile and half lidded eyes.

While most people would've hidden their grimaces, Harley didn't have one at all. Instead she slid her hand over his hair with a smile, pecked his cheek and helped him to his feet. He threw an arm, his better one, over her shoulder and they made their way past the Bat to the car.

This time he took passenger, shattered glass crunching as he sat on the fancy leather.

"We'll pay Mr. Frost a visit, huh Mr.J?" asked Harley. He didn't respond, but she took it as a yes. He was too busy peering at his reflection in the half broken window.

They reached Mr. Frost's within the hour, ditching the car on the way. They limped and dragged their way to the front door. Mr. Frost was a muscular middle aged fellow. He was a loyal man that had known Harley for quite some time, and Joker for as long as he used the alias. He had many talents from arsenal to medical to artistry. His entire house was suited for their purposes. It wasn't large, one floor with six medium sized rooms.

A kitchen. Three bedrooms. A large bathroom with a large bathtub. And a mini tattoo parlor/medical examination room, basically a room with cabinets and a dentist style chair in the middle of the room.

He was laid on the chair, still a little uncertain as to what was going on. His brain was working at slow speeds, and it was pissing him off. He vaguely heard Harley explain what had happened. All the while he was swiping his tongue over the broken teeth in his mouth.

That night many things happened. The first was Mr. Frost mending his teeth with silver grills and caps. It was a long process, that one, and the entire time all Joker could think was how much more he enjoyed thinking about plucking the feathers from the Bat's sidekick now.

After that his shoulder was popped back into place, and blood was cleaned. His clothes were trashed and his broken ribs were wrapped in bandages, leaving him bare chested in an old pair of Arkham Asylum sweatpants that had belonged to one of the deceased at the attack in which Harley had saved him from that place.

When Mr. Frost handed him a mirror to see his work, he threw it across the room where it shattered to the floor in pieces. His smile wasn't the same now. The Bat thought he could get rid of it that easy? No. No, no, no, no, no. Not that easy.

Getting to his feet and ignoring Mr. Frost's arguments of his health and well-being, he shuffled through the drawers for the tattoo gun. He found it and perched back on the chair, beginning without hesitation or pattern, just smiling at the mirror whenever he needed it.

He jumped from the chair once finished, letting the tattoo gun drop to the floor, and tuning out Harley and Mr. Frost as he entered the bathroom. He smiled once. Broken. Silver. Off. Then he smiled, but brought his newly tattooed hand up to cover it. Perfect.

The Bat wouldn't break him that easily. No, no, no. He wouldn't break. He'd kill all of the robins in the yard. He'd slice their heads off and rip their wings and laugh the entire time. He'd smile and laugh and one day, when he finally caught he pesky bat in his attack, he kill it too. The Bat hadn't broken him.

Broken. No. Broken broken broken.

The Joker growled, angrily exiting the bathroom and shoving past Harley to grab the gun again. He didn't smile once as he shoved the gun at Harley.

"Broken. Broken. Broken. Damaged. Damaged," he muttered endlessly to himself. He growled and dropped to his knees in front of her. "Write it."

Harley smiled and began writing in cursive. All the while the Joker continued muttering. "Damaged, damaged, damaged, damaged, damaged, damaged…"

 _End Flashback_

 _ **~A JOKER'S MINDSET~**_

So the stripper died.

Because he didn't want people to compliment his _teeth_. He wanted respect. He wanted power. He wanted people to compliment his _smile_. His _laugh_. His _power_.

Since then many tattoos had been added. The first was a knife stabbing into a bat on his left arm. He would kill the bat. He would. A dancing jester on his left bicep. The bat couldn't stop him. Couldn't stop his killing. His fun. He was a prince. The words "God's Only Child" were scrawled over his side just to prove it. The robin that had been drawn earlier now wore an arrow through its chest.

He and Harley would create chaos for as long as they wanted to.

And no bat— _no bird_ —would stop them.

 **What I'm trying to do is progressively make the Joker more unstable. :) I hope it's working. We're reaching the point where the Suicide Squad movie plot will start working its way in, but don't worry—as said earlier—I will be putting my own twists and turns in.**

 **Again, please don't be shy to review. They help inspire me to keep posting. Even just one line. :)**

 **Let me know your thoughts!**

 **I'll update soon!**

 **-AG**


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